Features
Festivals and human stomachs
Festivals are supposed to be an important part of our lives such that once in every year, every single soul in the capital is supposed to go back to his or her people to celebrate, drink fresh palm wine and crack grass- cutter bones.
But how many people think of going back to celebrate the festivals of their origin?
Perhaps if we had a Secretary for Festival Affairs with plenary powers to ensure that once in a year, everyone goes back to his grandfather’s village to celebrate the festival of his people, the importance of festivals might be more appreciated.
It is so sad to note that because of financial, mourning and ‘brokages,’ many don’t dare go back to their villages during annual leaves and festivals.
Festivals as we know are inseparable from our culture and as such, indissolubly linked with our roots.
Anyone who is therefore a hopeless ignoramus as far as the festivals of his people are concerned is in a cultural wilderness, lost and cannot be found. A search-party would be on a wild goose chase unless he himself retraces his steps to his origin to learn the ways of old.
Since most people have taken the capital of Sikaman as their hometown, many Anlos for instance do not know about Hogbetsotso, the northerners, bom and bred in Accra have never witnessed the Dambai festival; Oguaas forget the Fetu and the Ada’s, the Asafotufiam. Instead, every- one becomes well-acquainted with Homowo.
The very first time I joined the Gas to celebrate their Homowo festival was way back in 1973, I was a little kid. As I had many Ga friends, I was in high spirits. I took my time and consumed an unholy quantity of kpokpoi, the cherished traditional meal for the festival. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, but I was uninformed about the dosage.
It was getting close to midnight when I realised that kpokpoi was not only a very delicious festive dish, but also a rather powerful traditional purgative.
It took me some four hours to get through since it was a wake-keeping of commuting from my bedroom to the lavatory to cope with the frequency of my free bowels. The following year I was more cautious and took the right dosage.
Quite ironically, I have celebrated, or should I say, witnessed more Homowo festivals than the Yam Festival of my people. But that does not make me ignorant. We used to look forward to it every year and the most interesting aspect was the contests organised to select the most attractive, largest or weightiest “new” yam. It was a sort of beauty pageant where yams were the exuberant contestants.
Today, when my people are celebrating the Yam Festival back home, and I’m unable to go, I also celebrate mine quietly in the capital with my mother, brothers and sisters. We eat otor, yam slices, yam fufu and chicken soup, with yam-balls as dessert. We don’t have drumming and dancing, though.
Most festivals are celebrated following the harvest season in farming and fishing communities. The festivals are celebrated to praise and acknowledge the blessings of the gods for the bountiful harvests bestowed upon us mortals. With poor harvests therefore, the celebrations become lukewarm. Man must chop!
Traditional African societies have superstitious beliefs associated with folkways, norms and general manner of life. The celebration of festivals is therefore not entirely free from certain taboos and superstitions.
The reader would please, allow for a little digression. A child who grows in the capital of Sikaman knows nothing about the taboos associated with his origin. He, for instance, refuses to believe that some clans do not kill snakes just because it is their belief that a snake had something to do with the perpetration of their clan. Others do not eat corn because they believe one of their great chiefs was poisoned through a meal prepared from corn etc.
Other taboos are observed because the gods say they must be. There is a river god in Sikaman which forbids anyone going to the river at night with lantern.
A white man on tour who said he never believed that ‘superstitious nonsense’ since he was a devout Christian who had been fully baptised and receives communion regularly, defied the villagers and took a lantern to the riverside one night.
Of course, what he met at the place, I can’t quite describe. Fact is he himself could not even describe it because he had to do a fast sprint to escape the monster that pursued him. Since then, our Kwasi Broni friend has learnt to respect some of our dos and don’ts. I know he had quite a story to tell his countrymen when he went back, unless he wanted to stay here forever to do thorough research into African taboos.
It is a taboo to be seen eating newly harvested yam before the fetish priest performs the necessary rites that usher in the celebration of the Yam Festival at my area. This is to ensure that the gods taste of it before dwellers of the land take their turn.
I had occasion to talk to Togbi Teiku (V), Dufia of Matse Dzeve (not my hometown), known in private life as Mr Joshua Addo. The Yam Festival celebrated at his area, he says, are preceded by certain rites, which he cannot ignore irrespective of his Christian background and intellectual attainments.
He does not take alcohol, not even occasionally. But when it comes to performing the rites associated with the stool and the land during festivals, he must forget about his healthy conscious habits and let the palm wine descend his throat, enroute to the stomach.
Indeed, festivals have a meaning to our lives. However, receptive we might be to the impact of western culture, we must not forget that we have our own culture which we must enrich through the endeavour of going back from where we’ve run.
What would be the meaning of our lives as a clan, tribe or people when we cannot find time once every year to revel in festivity for the enjoyment of it, to meet old friends, and make more acquaintances, get used to our folklores and customs, and above all rejoice the blessings of good harvests and the like?
Festivals are also useful to non-resident citizens of every locality. It affords the city dweller the opportunity to ascertain the true condition prevailling in their rural communities so that when the Town Development Committee comes out to say that non-resident females must contribute GH¢1,000 and their male counterparts GH¢1,500 for development projects, they cannot grumble.
You certainly wouldn’t complain because after a heavy festive meal you will sooner or later need the services of a KVIP since you cannot carry the stuff in your stomach back to a city water-closet.
And when you realise that there is no KVIP around, except for a dangerous-looking pit-laterine that had been constructed half a century ago, you’ll understand that if you do not contribute the specified amount you may not be able to retire to the village to spend your pension days, when it is due.
This article was first published
on Saturday August 25, 1990
SIKAMAN is gradually becoming a health-conscious nation because piles is now a national disease. Some natives claim that piles, alias kooko, has gone on strike and has attacked different parts of their bodies — buttocks, forehead, inner ear, inner nose, lips, and hair. Now they do not know where next it would attack, and soon a petition would be sent to Parliament to declare piles a national tragedy.
It is interesting when you consider the way people assume that even common malaria is caused by kooko. Well, the medical authorities have come out to say that piles is a disease of only the last end of the alimentary canal. It has a name. Go and check the name in your biology textbook, or ask the nearest herbalist.
The health consciousness of the average Sikaman native is not limited to kooko, though. People are becoming very much aware of their pot-bellies. They can’t be carrying it all their lives, taking into consideration that half the time, it is laden with gallons of beer.
Even Kwame Alomele is gradually trying to unload the burden that precedes him. “I no longer have the stamina to carry a pot. I am now health-inclined and want to be a slim-macho, doing a sport. I am applying to be a member of a golf club and hope to do wonders with the tiny ball. Fact is I want to be up-and-doing like Gordon Avernogbor, the Grandmaster of GBC fame.”
The media have helped to carry this health idea far. Ghana Television does weekly health programmes, and the FM stations have various programmes and tit-bits on health. Radio Gold is on a Diabetes Month health beat, and patients are made to acquire some knowledge about what they may be suffering from and how they can manage their conditions.
In the print media, the Weekly Spectator has singlehandedly launched a powerful health crusade, and the sky is the limit. In fact, the Spectator has been hailed in medical circles as one of the papers that have zealously carried the health mantle aloft in recent times. The Mirror also runs a health column with my good friend Dr. Anyah in the chair.
Tune in to any of the FM stations and you’re likely to hear a health tit-bit that can be useful to you. You’ll hear something like, “if you eat too much yorke gari, you’ll develop coccidiosis, which is a fowl disease. So check the level of gari and beware of zorzor.”
COCKROACH DIET
Well, healthy living in general has to do with healthy eating. At least, that is what the nutritionists say. And the cockroach has been the most qualified nutritionist in the world. The reason is that the common cockroach is so health-conscious that it eats only a balanced diet — anything from rotten fruit to human excreta. It doesn’t reject food.
The experts say fruits and vegetables, which are alkaline in nature, are good for the human body. There is some truth in this. The silver-back bear, perhaps the most powerful animal in the world, is a vegetarian. It can uproot a tree almost effortlessly, and the power in its arms is attributed to its vegetarian diet.
Anyhow, man cannot continue eating fruits and vegetables perpetually as the main diet. The stomach would get bored, the tongue will revolt, and the human body will subconsciously start crying for banku and okro soup plus giant crabs.
Ideally, a balanced diet — carbohydrates, protein, fats and oils, vitamins and minerals — in their correct quantities are enough to ensure healthy living. It means that you can’t fare well when you eat bread in the morning, bread in the afternoon, and kenkey and shito for supper. There would be a traffic jam in your intestines. And believe me, the traffic lights will also go off.
The killer menu is maintained for three days, and you’ll have what is termed as “treasonable constipation,” a sin against your body. No purgative can save you unless rice and okro soup. That combination is the best purgative in town. In 1983, it used to be one of the famous diets in Legon when famine besieged Sikaman. Students had to abandon lectures and stay close to the WC. Anything can happen. You can’t trust your own stomach.
Exercise also begets health, and brisk walking is the golden rule. I have a friend who is a positive thinker, and he told me walking is no problem to him. He once walked from Osu Christianborg to Circle to Abeka and back to Christiansburg.
No ice-water. No one gave him an award, but I congratulated him. Not that the guy is broke and can’t fix himself up in a trotro or taxi. Walking is his hobby. And his health is always excellent, his appetite ever-ready — no need for bitters. As for his sex life, your guess is as good as mine. He can deliver more than AK-47.
Exercise is good, but it must not wear you down. Do not over-exert. What about sex? Research has shown that excessive indulgence in sex is harmful to the central nervous system because it drains the body of its vitality.
Sex is basically for reproduction, but Ghanaman thinks quite differently. Some experts say twice a week or less is just what the body can cope with. Others say abstain and live long.
But what is the body’s most formidable adversary? It is WORRY. Worry has killed many more people than the Second World War did. About 90% of the population are chronic worriers. People are so addicted to worrying that even when there is nothing to worry about, they worry that there is nothing to worry about.
Worry causes hypertension and its attendant complications of heart disease, stroke, renal failure, and mental illness. The question is, how can man stop worrying? There is a formula by which you can stop worrying.
Make a date with Sikaman Palava in the coming weeks and get your formula for longevity, your life without worry.
This article was first published on Saturday, August 16, 1997.
Christmas has been celebrated ever since I became aware of events as a child and I believe it will continue to be celebrated till thy kingdom come.
The month immediately after Christmas is the month of January and is usually associated with harmattan and its related health challenges like catarrh etc.
Except this year that even on the January 2, there was rainfall in some parts of the country. This is very strange indeed and I pray that the false prophets do not take advantage of it to come up with all kinds of fear mongering predictions.
Growing up, one of the issues that parents and people in general talk about is how long January is and how difficult it is to successfully manage things economically in catering for the needs of the family.
It therefore requires prudent planning to ensure that one is not found wanting in having enough money in the pocket, to cater for the needs of the family after the Christmas holidays.
ln January, a lot of issues crop up. This is the month that students will be returning to school after the holidays and so you can imagine the financial burden it places on parents whose children are in secondary and tertiary institutions.
Money has to be found to provide for provisions at all cost. These days the Free SHS has lessened the burden of parents a bit but if a parent has children, in the tertiary level, then the issue of hostel accommodation comes in and it is not easy to handle.
After managing to see the children off to school, then comes the issue of how to manage to the end of the month when money will be made available to you, as a salaried worker.
Those who ran their own businesses usually do not face such challenge but are also affected in a way because the people who should be buying stuff are not financially sound to patronise goods and services being offered.
In January, I honestly believe that most adults, if they had the power to wish for anything, would wish that they were children. I believe that even for those who are not hypertensive, their blood pressure, if measured and compared to those of previous months, will show a sharp rise each morning in January.
Generally rise in blood pressure is caused by stress apart from the other causes that cones from the food intake and lack of exercise. They say a healthy workforce results in a healthy economy; reason why we pay special attention to the health needs of our leaders.
The cost of the absence of say the President or the Minister for Finance to the state due to illness is huge and likewise the aggregate cost of workers who provide the requisite services for the economy to run smoothly
The whole issue has to do with the low salary levels for most civil and public workers in the country.
One former President once said we pretend to pay them and they also pretend to work. Salaries are not being paid based on living wage and so salaries people receive are not enough to properly take care of their needs and this is what mostly account for this perennial phenomenon which I term as the January Headache. This question of the chicken and the egg, which comes first, as far as salaries are concerned, must be urgently addressed.
The issue of hire purchase, could be one way of addressing this January Headache and government can liaise with supermarkets and other business establishments to take advantage of the Ghana Card, to provide this service to ease the burden of workers especially those who are parents each January. God bless.
NB: KOTOKA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT TO KOFI BAAKO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT’
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